


Scrumptious

by Obnoxious



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), DCU, DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Bottom Jason Todd, But they both like what they see, Consensual Sex, Identity Porn, Jason Todd is Nightwing, Jason doesn't know who Deathstroke is underneath the mask, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rooftop Sex, Slade Wilson is Deathstroke, Slade doesn't know who Jason is, Smut, Top Slade Wilson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27275605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obnoxious/pseuds/Obnoxious
Summary: Fourth Day of Slade/Robin Week 2020 - Identity Porn | Hands Free OrgasmSlade's in New York for a job when he spots Nightwing in the distance. Of course he's going to say hi, it's the nice thing to do. Once he reaches Nightwing though, he realizes that there seem to be more than one of them out there.OR That one time Jason dressed up as Nightwing to piss off his family and he encountered Deathstroke.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Nightwing/Deathstroke
Comments: 6
Kudos: 191
Collections: SladeRobin Week 2020





	Scrumptious

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!
> 
> My fourth submission for this years SladeRobin Week. This is pure identity porn without plot. Deathstroke and Jason Todd as Nightwing, if you're looking for Dick Grayson he's not here.
> 
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments on my last three submissions, they make me very happy!  
> Hope you enjoy!

It had been a job well done.

Slade Wilson was content with himself. It is true, Deathstroke the Terminator never failed, at least on the job. That didn’t mean that Slade wasn’t allowed to be satisfied with his own performance. He is good at what he does and he knows it. Money spent on him is money well spent. He guarantees the desired outcome, and his clients know as much.

It did help a little bit to lighten his mood that the target had been a total piece of shit. It was some kind of local representative, an up and coming politician, a hopeful in the next race for governor. Without elaborating, that prick had deserved the hole through his skull. His contractor had their reasons, very valid reasons.

Slade killed whoever he was paid for to kill, no questions asked. But there was a certain kind of satisfaction that came with eliminating a target that just so happened to be a total scumbag, he had to admit.

Slade was on a rooftop, giving the area one last swoop to make sure nobody had seen him or was following him, caped or otherwise. It didn’t really matter, there were few people that could him in a hands on fight, Superman maybe, but he wasn’t in the mood really, and didn’t want the NYPD investigating him either. Deathstroke never left behind any kind of proof, and if there weren’t any witnesses, the police had no grounds to investigate him.

Looking through the visor of his sniper rifle, scanning the area, he spotted a familiar silhouette.

Slade smirked.

It was pure coincidence that the visor came to a halt at the height of the individuals rear. They had their back turned towards Slade, seemingly looking out at the mythical New York skyline.

The ass in question was clad in skintight spandex, a black uniform adorned with blue detailing on the sleeves, shoulders and chest, forming the stylized form of a bird with spread wings.

Nightwing. What a pleasant surprise, Slade thought.

It would be rude for the mercenary not to go over and greet him, now that he had seen him. He was always up for a chat with the former Robin.

What was Grayson doing in New York anyways? As far as Slade knew, the bird could mostly be found in Bludhaven, which seemed to be his new home-turf.

Slade’s gaze lingered a little longer on that perky ass before he attached his rifle to his back and made his way over to the vigilante, springing from roof to roof. Slade wasn’t really trying to go stealth, and Grayson had good hearing and awareness of his surroundings, so the young man had already turned around before the mercenary landed on the roof he was stood on.

Nightwing stood before him, hip cocked to the side, both his hands resting on top of them, expectantly. 

It was then that Slade realized that this wasn’t who he had expected it to be.

This Nightwing wasn’t Dick Grayson, Slade could tell from this close. The boy’s hair was just as black, but curlier, his jaw was a different shape, a rounder chin, and his nose was different too. It was a different face. 

Slade frowned. He knew Dick Grayson, knew how the young man’s face looked. This wasn’t him.

That being said, this boy was pretty too, and young. Maybe the same age as Grayson, maybe younger. Great legs as well, Slade noticed, the spandex clinging nicely to his shapely thighs.

His full, plump lips turned into a grin. “Well, well, isn’t that Deathstroke himself, in all his glory”, the stranger said, “tell me, were you hired to get rid of me?”

So the kid knew who he was, good. But then again, who didn’t know who he was? Many people shit their pants at the mere mention of his name. It’s one of his biggest accomplishments. Next to his children and so on, all of that proud father crap.

The kid didn’t seem overly intimated though.

Slade lifts his arm and takes his mask off his face, tossing it to the ground.

The strangers face turns to a look of surprise, those pretty lips turning into an O. It is a good look on this Nightwing.

Was there any look that didn’t suit Nightwing, this one or the original, Slade muses.

“What is it kid, never seen a real man in your life?” Slade questions, lifting an eyebrow and smirking mockingly.

“No, it’s just - I’ve never seen pictures of you without the mask, I didn’t suspect...Well, it’s definitely a look.” The smile returns to the boy’s face.

“To answer your question, no I’m not here to kill you, I was just passing by... But tell me, Nightwing decided to duplicate or what his this?” Slade asks.

The kid’s smile turns into a smirk. “Oh, you thought I was the other Nightwing, that’s why you swinged by”, he chuckles, “sorry to disappoint.”

Slade grins, he’s practically leering at the kid, but he doesn’t care. He’s not interested in hiding his intentions. “Who says I’m disappointed”, Slade counters, “I just wish the other Nightwing would introduce me more often to his little friends. Who are you?”

Slade can feel the strangers gaze gliding up and down his body underneath the white lenses of his domino mask. So he’s interested too. “That’s one secret I’ll never tell, not even to Deathstroke the Terminator” the kid responds.

Slade let’s out an amused huff. What kind of a mission is this one on? He will his real identity out, sooner or later. If he really wanted to, he could squeeze it out of his pretty little neck right now. He decides to let the kid be for now. 

“Alright then. One last question, is it a requirement to have a great ass to get to wear the Nightwing uniform?”

The kid laughs and Slade feels himself harden at the sound. “Please Mr Deathstroke stop, you’ll make me blush! I bet you say that to all the vigilantes out there.”the kid says, one hand touching his cheek, the other one thrown forward, in mockery of the bad acting you would usually see in a bad rom-com. There’s that mischievous little grin again and he takes a step forward. “If you think my ass looks good inside the suit wait til you’ve seen it out of it.”

Slade licks his lips. Straightforward. That’s a Nightwing Slade can get behind, literally.

“Well, put your money where your mouth is Nightwing, turn around and show me” Slade quips, his stare turning dark with lust.

The stranger chuckles as he takes another step forward, now standing right in front of Slade. He puts both his hands on Slade’s chest and strokes it. He looks up into the mercenary’s eye as he says: “I don’t think it’s money you want to put near my mouth.”

Slade wraps his hand around the kid’s waist and leans down to crush his mouth onto those plush lips. The boy wraps his arms around Slade’s neck, heaving himself up and opening his mouth, granting Slade’s tongue access. The kiss is hot and urgent, tongues pressing and swirling around each other.

Slade’s hands move downwards, over the small of the boy’s back and over the swell of his ass. He takes one cheek in each hand and squeezes them hard, feeling the softness of the flesh and strength of the muscle underneath. The new Nightwing moans into his mouth and Slade drinks them right down, deepening the kiss.

The universe must really love Slade for that asshole he gunned down tonight, otherwise he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. 

He pushes forward, walking, dragging the young man in his arms with him. When they reach the structure containing the door with the staircase leading up to the roof, he smashes the kid against the wall and attacks his neck, pressing kisses into the soft skin underneath his jaw, sucking a hickey into it, biting and licking the hot flesh.

The other Nightwing moans and keens and mewls under his ministrations, digging his fingers into Slade’s bicep. He’s vocal too, the older man notices with delight.

He turns the young man around, his body pressing face first into the wall in front of them. He grabs the kid’s hips, tugging at the fabric in command. “Come on”, he growls, “loose those. I want to see your ass."

The boy complies, deactivating a few catches on his suit and rolling the pants portion down his thighs.

The kid didn’t lie, Slade thinks, his ass does look even better with the spandex out of the way. Two perfectly round globes, firm and plump, standing upright. Slade slaps them and observe how they jiggle. Delicious.

Slade needs to get his dick in between his cheeks. He starts getting impatient as he retrieves a bottle of lube out of one of the pockets on his belt. If there’s one thing his time with the special forces has taught him it’s this, always be prepared. You never know when you might come across a Nightwing who’s willing to let you fuck his ass.

He takes both his gloves off and lets them fall to the floor. He hastily lubes his fingers up and circles the kid’s rim with his pointer finger, putting on some pressure. The other Nightwing presses back against his hand, a needy whine escaping his lips.

Slade presses a first finger inside, marveling at how greedily that tight hole sucks him in and clenches around him. As he works his finger in and out between those plump and firm cheeks, the kid’s head falls back, black locks cascading from his scalp. Slade reaches his other hand up and tangles his fingers around those curls. The boy’s breath hitches as Slade tugs on the strands.

A second and third finger are added, the hole struggling to keep up with their size. Slade’s grin turns feral, this was going to be a tight fit, just like he loves them. He pumps his fingers deeper, bending them. The younger man’s whole body jolts and he moans in pleasure as Slade’s fingers graze his prostate.

“I think you’re ready now” Slade drawls and retrieves his fingers. He hastily opens his fly and gets the protective cup out of the way. Slade can’t retain a sigh of relief as his cock leaps out of it’s confines, hard and leaking already.

He pours a generous amount of lube on top of it, before the bottle joins his gloves on the floor. He steadies himself with one hand on Jason’s hip, the other guiding his cock to it’s desired destination. His cock does jump in anticipation in his hand, Slade notes.

As Deathstroke feeds his cock to the second Nightwings hole, the younger man arches his back, his head resting against Slade’s shoulder, mouth wide open in a silent cry.

Once he’s fully sheathed inside him, he gives the kid some time to adjust to the girth filling him up. He chuckles before he says: “I wonder what Batman would say if he could see us like this.”

The kid, his head still on Slade’s shoulder, turns his head slightly to look the mercenary in the eye. He laughs breathily as he responds: “You have no idea how mad Batman would be if he sees me, point blank. But the two of us together? Would probably give him a heart attack.”

Slade laughs. So this guy does have a history wit the Bat. Noted. Slade would have to research him later.

For now though, he grips a hold of the boy’s hips, letting his fingers slide over the lines of his Adonis Belt, and starts thrusting into the wet heat of the kid. The tight hole squeezes wonderfully well around his hardness, as do the firm, plump cheeks of that ass. That ass that feels and looks way too phenomenal for it’s or it’s owners own good.

This boy is an absolute delight. The perfect ending to a great day.

Slade had no time nor the will to ponder on these oh so important questions as he pounds away into the young man in front of him. He wraps one arm around the boy’s waist and drags him closer till the boy’s back rests against his chest. He glances at his face once more before diving in and claiming his lips for another kiss.

He would like to rip that domino mask of his head to see the colour and shape of his eyes. Get a proper look at that pretty face. That’s how it usually goes in their line of work, you respect each others anonymity, even if you fuck them. Slade himself never bothered though, many people know his real identity underneath the mask. Those that don’t, he doesn’t mind them finding out.

To hell with it, Slade thinks. Faster than the kid can react, Slade rips the mask away from the boy’s face, big blue eyes, framed by thick dark lashes, staring back at him. A closer inspections reveals flecks of green spattered across the irises. Very interesting. Pretty eyes for a pretty boy.

The kid doesn’t seem to care as Deathstroke throws the mask carelessly to the floor.

The boy moans and mewls in pleasure as he meets Slade with every thrust. Certain partners are just way too annoying when they are vocal, their cries to loud or shrill for Slade’s enhanced hearing. That’s not the case with this mystery Nightwing, he has a nice voice and his moans are quite hot actually, so Slade rewards him by hitting that magical spot inside his ass with every push inwards.

The kid arches his back, the fingers of one hand digging into Deathstroke’s thigh for support, as he literally shouts out loud as he comes, his release hitting the wall both are situated in front of.

The kid didn’t even touch himself. That’s a good boy, Slade thinks.

Slade keeps on pumping his cock into that glorious ass, blissfully chasing his own climax. He brings his mouth down to that enticing neck again, sucking and licking. The boy whines as the older man’s grip on his hip turns bruising, his over-sensitive hole sending sparks of pleasure through his whole body.

Slade sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of the boy’s neck as he comes himself, his cock shooting out load after load of cum into that hot waiting hole.

He keeps his arm wrapped around the New Yorker Nightwing, bracing his other hand on the wall opposite to steady both of them as they catch their breaths.

“God that was...incredible”, the kid groans out. Slade hums in agreement.

Slade breathes heavily, his broad chest rising and falling under the boy’s weight who is leaning against him. “Well, Nightwing, are you at least going to tell me your name?” Slade murmurs, his mouth against the shell of the kid’s ear, his voice low and deep, a satisfied rumble. It sends another shiver down the boy’s spine. Nice.

The younger man’s smiles up at him, flashing white teeth. “I guess...”, the kid pants, “my name’s Jason.”

Jason, alright then. Slade can work with that. He’ll just have to research a Jason with possible ties with the Bats. He’ll find out who this real showstopper is. At least in the looks and ass department, he lives up to the Nightwing name. Those are the only ones that count anyways.

Speaking of ass, Slade’s semi-hard cock is still nestled in this one, and he needs to get a move. He has to report back to his contractor and receive the outstanding part of his payment.

He lets his dick slide out and gets about retrieving the protective cup from the floor, putting it back in place and closing his pants. “I hope we’ll get to meet again, Jason”, Slade drawls, stretching the name as if to see how it tastes on his tongue, “believe it or not, I’m not a one-night-stand kind of guy.”

Jason giggles, actually giggles. Slade smirks, it’s cute. Must be the afterglow of the good fuck. Slade’s doesn’t know why, but he’s got a feeling this one usually wouldn’t want to be catched dead giggling under any circumstances.

The kid puts his uniform back in place, reactivating the catches to secure it. Slade contemplates that Jason still has his release leaking out of his ass, soiling the suit. It puts a smile on his face. He bends down, giving Slade a nice view, and retrieves the domino mask, putting it back in place.

Jason turns around before he answers: “Anytime Mr. Deathstroke. I hope I’ll get to introduce you to my Daddy very soon.” A small smile graces his features. Next time, he wants to see how those plump lips will looked stretched around his cock, Slade thinks.

Now all he needs to do is to get the original Nightwing to join them. Deathstroke and two Nightwings, wouldn’t that be nice? He’s imagining it alredy, Grayson and himself, Jason sandwiched between the two of them…

He’s sure someone would pay a lot of money to see that.

Someone like Black Mask, that old perv, Slade shudders at the thought. Although maybe he should be careful who he’s calling an old perv, that Jason kid is probably younger than his own sons.

“See you around, old man” Jason says as he grabs his grapple gun from his belt. He sprints and leaps from the building just as he reaches the edge of the roof, shooting the grapple hook into the neighboring building and performing a split as he flies through the air.

Slade huffs and rolls his eye, what a show-off.

Must be a Nightwing thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Jason: But who am I? That's one secret I'll never tell! XOXO Red Hood  
> Literally everybody else: Bitch, we all know who you are, the fuck?!
> 
> Do you guys remember when Jason dressed up as Nightwing and slaughtered people in New York, all to piss off Dick and get him to maybe team up with him? Nobody noticed that it wasn't the real Nightwing. Jason has a great ass, it's canon.  
> (Also, kind of a Dick move, pun intended, ah-hyuck!)


End file.
